2013-01-31 The Missing Bike
Arkham Island was once the home of one of the founding families of Gotham City, but has since been converted into satellite holding facility for the Nation's most dangerous criminals. Styled as a 'Hospital' for the criminally insane, the facilities are self-sufficient to limit access to the rest of the citizens of Gotham. The former mansion grounds have been converted into a multi-wing facility that caters to the particulars of each individual patient. Two bridges lead to the island from the mainland, with a single off-ramp that takes a winding route through the cavernous terrain of the island. The facility also features a dock for transport by the water way. All entrance and exit from the island is heavily moderated and observed in an attempt to keep the escapes from the Asylum to a minimum. The Ducati has been left out near Arkham Asylum exposed to the elements for FAR too long in Huntress's opinion, but she really had no subtle way of getting to the vehicle and getting it back home. She's been trying and trying to think of a way to do so, and could not come up with a single option that did not require asking someone for help. And she's the kind of person that LOATHES asking for help. So, standing as close as she can discreetly get to Arkham Island in her cold weather costume, she stares out to where she knows her motorcycle waits and quietly fumes. Wesley Dodds was at home drawing. Sketches of new costumes were strung about. He wanted, no, needed, a new costume that was better suited for Gotham. Some designs had him ditching the coat, others called for a sleek suit that was hidden by the leather for the sake of showmanship. For a while he had been waiting to hear from Huntress or her people. Dodds nightly events still happened when the dreams called him. Tonight, however, he was just simply at home. Ever once in a while it was nice to have a quiet evening. At least it was in theory. As theraputic as it was to draw design after design, part of him was antsy to get out. Huntress fumes for a bit longer, then tries to think of who might be around to help, and be willing to help, and won't completely treat her like a dingbat while doing so. Really, only one name comes to mind, so she keys her comm link to contact Sandman. Of course, heaven forbid she should be all radio appropriate and stuff. |" Dodds heard his radio chirp before responding back. |Miss H. How might I serve you? How are you and your lovely face doing this evening?| Pausing for a moment Dodds mouthed, "Lovely face?!" "Where did that come from?" he wondered thens hook his head waiting for the reply trying to act cool as if that wasn't just said. Lovely face? Huntress glances around as if something around her might help her make sense of that seemingly completely random comment. She is very careful to not her her confusion be heard in her voice, though. |"Uh, look. My motorcycle is ..."| She pauses and takes a deep breath. Spit it out already, for crying out loud. |"It's hidden in a stand of bushes just outside of Arkham Asylum, and I can't get it out of there by myself."| At least not until spring at this rate. She starts pacing, her arms crossed tightly. |"Would you possibly have time to help me get it back?"| He chimed back, "Answer me one question beautiful and I will put on my best evening wear." Dodds paused before saying into the radio one simple word, "How?" With the send button let go of Dodds made his way downstairs to his lab, as he called it, then moved away the area that hid a trap door leading down another floor into a another basement. Harry Dresden would have called it a 'Sub-Basement.' Dodds figured if it worked for a fictional character then why not him? Grateful Huntress could not hear his getting radio Dodds just stood at the radio to reply while slipping on everything but the mask. Huntress stops pacing at that, frowning at thin air. |"How? How what? How do we get the motorcycle back? Well, I was thinking of maybe, um, driving up to it, loading it in the back of a truck or something like that, and driving away again?"| She resists the urge to rub at the lingering ache in her right collarbone and continues, |"It's not /inside/ the Asylum grounds, if that's what you're asking."| "Yes but if it wasn't seriously stuck...you wouldn't be asking for help. Plus you're not asking people that were with you on the Roman mission or the people that have investigated me. Thusly this leaves a story to tell as to 'How' it got there," Dodds waited slipping into his car and driving off in her direction in a new car he picked up. The tags and plates led to an alias he established. However there would be no tracing back to Dodds on routine checks to see who owned what car. And there would be no need to pull him over and end the charade if Dodds did five under the speed limit. Plus the big engine meant it could haul if it meant leaving in a place in a hurry. She KNEW he was going to ask. This is why she hates asking for help. But, if explaining her own incompetence is the price she has to pay to get her bike back... fine. |"Fine. Remember hearing about Joker or someone like that escaping Arkham a few weeks ago?"| She can't help the pacing again some more as she explains. |"I was there. I went in to help the Bat stop it. I... I guess we failed. Haven't seen or heard from the Bat since, though his snarktastic sidekick dropped in a few days ago to loan me a crossbow until I get a replacement for mind."| She conveniently neglects to tell him the less pleasant details. Hearing that Dodds asked with a serious voice, "Are you okay?" Before she could respond, "My payment for this. You're coming back here. I want to make sure you're medically fit. And bio-chemist, I know something about anatomy and chemicals. Next to the big guy for these matters, I presume, I'm you're next best treatment option." For her to understand he was leaving a loud rev of an engine could be heard. "Directions?" Huntress rolls her eyes and huffs out a sigh. Yet again why she hates asking for help. But, if that's what she has to put up with, it'll be worth it to get her Ducati back. It took her literally HOURS to get this far on foot. |"Come to Arkham Island, turn right onto the last street before the bridge. I'm on top of the last warehouse on the left."| She looks out across the bridge toward the island. |"Please tell me you're bringing somethign that can carry my bike. It's been out in this weather this whole time and likely won't want to start."| Dodds backed up the car then went back into his garage. Work SUV that was register to dodds would have to do. From there he drove out in the civy vehicle much to his chagrin. In the past he rented old clunkers that would do well but couldn't have been traced to him. This one was a different matter. A forest green gas-gussler that had four doors and a backw ith fold down seats. He liked it due to the all condition driving it had. Time was spent getting there and when the car parked near by her building all it did was dim the lights. "Your chariot awaits," he said. Huntress took the time to climb back down off of the warehouse roof before Dodds arrived, knowing she can't currently do so without suffering the consequences. Thus, when the Canyonero chariot arrives, she's already at ground level and steps forward to acknowledge Dodds. "Thanks for helping." She's very careful to keep her posture neutral as she steps around toward the passenger's side of the vehicle. Maybe if he thinks she didn't get hurt during that fiasco he won't pester her again. "We'll need to go across to the island and then to the edge of the fenceline around the Asylum." Noting that she wasn't moving too fast when getting in, Dodds stayed quiet. "You tell me what to do Mum," he said putting on a british accent and giving her a coy look. Driving to where she said he dimmed the lights then waited for her to start ordering what to do. This was Dodds first time on the island and he would need help. Plus if he offered to be the foot man, Huntess may have stayed down. Huntress points to a stand of holly bushes off to the right just a yard or so from the actual fencing of the asylum. "It's hidden back in there. I'll try to start her up first, and if she's feeling grumpy which I'm expecting..." She turns to look into the back of the large SUV, mentally trying to calculate if the Ducati will fit inside without having to lay the vehicle over on one side, and it's that motion that triggers a wince. DAMN IT. "Forgive me," Dodds says going to her side to hold her. Before she can protest the gas gun goes off. While they are associates he never told her how to counteract his weapon. Part of him feels guilty but this is one of the few ways she stays down. The pain, the exhaustion and the joker, all signs someone needs a rest. Even if it's a few hours thanks to the gun. "What?" Huntress turns to look at Dodds, then starts to try and shake him off. "Damnit, don't you d..." And she's out. You are SO gonna pay for this later. Everything took a little longer than thought but when Huntress came to there was a bright light, she could hear a few effects going. If she tried to move her body was held in place thanks to restraints. An IV was in her arm along with something else. Dodds was sipping a coffee looking over chairs as a few vials of red liquid were being spun around in a machine. She was in a bra with a hospital gown on along with pants that were obviously his. A makeshift brace was set near her collar bone. Huntress wakes slowly, and the moment she realizes something is different she forces herself to remain still, mentally taking stock and listening to her surroundings. Not cold, but not wearing her costume anymore. BASTARD. Pinch in one arm and the pulling sensation of tape. That'd be an IV. Something around wrists and ankles. His death will be SLOW and the Bat won't have a chance of stopping her. Some weird ... what the HELL is on her shoulder? Her eyes snap open finally and she turns her head to see what kind of crap is holding her shoulder like a bowler's wrist brace. Feeling that glare Dodds says in a calm voice, "Broken collar bone, easiest bone to break in the body. Took some blood to separate protein strains to make sure you don't have any chemicals in your system, no other injuries. The IV is legit, the subtle pain killer is of my own design. A faster working tylenol and nothing more. Bike is in the garage but it's not mine to start," from there he turns to look at her. "Yes you're going to kill me, I'm aware. Just know you were too banged up to keep going without some kind of recooperation. You said it yourself, 'Batman's missing.'" He may have been paraphrasing but it works. "Please...just...I...I wanted to make sure you're okay," Dodds is really feeling bad now. Huntress huffs out an annoyed sigh. "He's not /missing/, you GIT. He dumped me off at the Thompkins Clinic and went on his merry way. Which is what I usually expect from him and his ilk." She tugs at the restraint on her left arm a bit viciously. "May I /please/ sit up? I had to sit in that damned clinic for nearly two weeks before I managed to bust out of there. Don't make me have to bust out of here, too." On that word Dodds let her loose and moves back a little prepared for anything. His heart is in the right place at least. Huntress sits up carefully and then looks down at her current garments before levelling a VERY displeased glare at Dodds. "What? Couldn't get me out of my pants fast enough? Typical." Sighing, "Medical procedure and I dressed you up. If I was pervy you woudln't be dressed. Also if I wanted to get you out of your pants I would have drugged you sooner." He is glaring at her now. "I wanted to date you, yes. You're intriguing and many other things. But with your vigilantism I figured you would turn me down since I'm a novice compared to you," all the words flow out of anger as he looks back down at her blood. Huntress sighs and rubs at her forehead with her left hand. "Look. I think we both know I don't play well with others. But knocking my ass out because you're worried I'm hiding injuries doesn't exactly earn you a whole lot of trust from me, okay?" "Agreed with the others part, but the thing is you need others. You were injured, you said fight with the Joker. Missed the part about two weeks," he says sternly still examining. Feeling like an ass he just says, "I'm sorry," while the words are angry the emotions is toward himself. "Yeah. Just... promise not to pull crap like that again? I can't guarantee I won't try to kick your ass into next week if you do." Her left hand almost unconsciously goes to her right collarbone, but there's a brace thing in the way, and she's left fidgeting with the IV tubing. Sighing again Dodds just says to her, "I can remove the tube but you're low on blood. If you don't want the tubes then let me cook a meal for you," the words are soft as he looks away from the screens for a moment. Huntress eyes the centrifuge. "How much did you drain off to run those tests?" She doesn't remember the Clinic doctors telling her anything about that... not that she listened all that closely. Food could be helpful, though. She's still been neglecting her fridge at home and plain tuna just didn't sound appealing earlier. Despite the room's warmth, the exposed skin on her arms and back elicit a brief shiver and she winces as it causes her damned collarbone to twinge. "I guess I could eat... you have a sweater or something I could borrow?" "Yes," he says then leads her up a set of stairs that lead to another basement then up another set of stairs leads her to the first floor of his home. Walking past a television area with a television that's flat screen but older. There's no cable box and various DVDs, a lot of true crime stuff. From there she could see a study that has a lot of books. If she peaks in there are mountains of books, a lot of detective books. A few of them look well loved. Many browns adorn a home full of hardwood. While the kitchen follows the motiff there are plenty of items about that show he gives this place care. New appliances, weights, fine items show a man that loves to cook. Everything screams well off, Dodds can be heard walking upstairs to the top floor before coming down with a green sweater. After giving it to her, he turns averting his eyes. Huntress follows Dodds, looking around at everything curiously but not in an overly nosy manner, and she can't help but be a bit impressed by the layout of this residence. It's got to be a private house or brownstone type thing. There's no way she'd have basement access like that in her own apartment even if she tried. Honestly, she /could/ afford way better than her current apartment, but it wouldn't have been in keeping with her schoolteacher job and income. Of course, now that that job's history... She accepts the sweater, but rather than change out of the hospital gown she just puts the sweater on over the top of it as best she can and then steps over quietly to sit at the kitchen table. "Pretty snazzy set up here." Nodding his eyes look back to her, "The job pays the bills. Kind of big, nice, but lonely. I said I would make you quiche if you're willing to stay for such a task." His eyes went to hers for a moment. Part of him still feels bad about his actions. Huntress shrugs her left shoulder. "I don't know where you put my clothes, and I'm pretty sure my bike isn't ready for me to go tearing off just yet. So, um, sure. Quiche sounds good." She still a little miffed, but she's figuring out pretty quickly that Dodds was only acting out of what he thought was in her best interest. Well-meaning, if a bit aggravating. "How long do those usually take? I'm more used to cooking spaghetti and lasagna and stuff like that, myself." "A bit but they're worth it," he says going to pull out the egs and other ingrediants. With everything out Dodds begins moving like an expert. Waiting for everything to start he says, "Ask what you want while I cook then," Dodds points to a laundry room where her costume is hung with care. Nothing is removed or taken off of it. Huntress visually studies her costume but doesn't immediately see anything out of place. After that, she is quiet for several moments trying to think of a good question. She finally comes across one that hopefully won't be misinterpreted. "Did you have to lay my bike on its side to get it back here?" "No but it was angled slightly but not laid on the side due to fluids," he waits then eventually starts to season. Looking at her, "Why?" Huntress actually smiles a bit at that. "The fluids. It would have been a bigger pain to get her running again." Bad part that she's not telling Dodds is, she's not really that good a mechanic. She can do the occasional little thing, but most of her motorcycle's repairs are done by someone else. If she can't get the Ducati running... Maybe she can get a hold of Robin again? He seemed to really like babying the motorcycle the last time he got a hold of her. "And how is the other aspects of your life? Those you're willing to share," he asks putting on a little more seasoning before grabbing two plates. Serving her up the quiche for her it's egg with spinach and a little rosemary. A simple quiche in terms of content and he looks at her with his own quiche in hand with plate, "Bon Apetit," a smile is on his face before the man nabs two forks. "Please tell me how it is," Dodds has actually spent a good two years perfecting his recipe. It would never beat a quiche made by a french bakery but it is still very good. Huntress nods as Dodds arrives with the two plates of quiche, accepting one of the forks. "I already smell rosemary." She takes a smallish bite, handling the fork a bit awkwardly left-handed. "It's good. It's ... I'm used to quiche being heavier. does that makes sense?" Giving a nod, "Yes. I try to make it a little lighter so it can be savored instead of just sit like some can," a smile is on his face. Well he did say that one cay there would be a quiche made for her. On some level he is proud of himself and on another he's self-conscious about it. Hopefully she really did like it. Huntress apparently does like the quiche, as she eats the entire serving set before her and hesitates, debating whether or not she can get away with asking for seconds. "Soooo...," Dodds voice rolls as he feels an awkward silence move about the room. It's not every day you gas someone you like while being overprotective then offer quiche in an attempt to assuage the wound. Awkward, that's a very good word for it. "So, um, is there enough for seconds?" Helena's trying, but she can't exactly be passed off as a social butterfly. "Sure!" Dodds says a little too energetically. As he gets Helena another piece his mind races with a terrible thought, "I've had better dates in High School than this and those were -really- bad. God I screwed things up." Helena Bertinelli looks like she was about to get up when Dodds all but bolted to get the extra serving for her. Now she feels like more of a jerk. "Thanks for cooking," she offers a bit lamely. She probably would feel less awkward about this if she weren't wearing the guy's clothing already. It's like stuff happened and she wasn't privy to it. A defeated sigh escapes Dodd's lips, "It's purple, isn't it?" When Helena retorts he adds, "The color of the big awkward elephant in the room." "Uh, what?" Yeah, frigging eloquent, there. It takes Helena's brain a moment to catch up, and then she ohs, and OHs, and finally starts to chuckle softly. "No. More of an ... orange paisley." Chuckling he hands her the second piece, "Really? You see him as orange? Why is this?" a smile is on his face while sitting back down. Helena Bertinelli accepts the seconds with a more comfortable nod of thanks. "Because he's an ugly bastard, and I've always hated the color orange." Though really, she'd be far more perturbed by a pink elephant blowing kisses and tossing glitter. But that's just her. Chuckilng Dodds just looks at her, "How bad do you want to kill me?" the question is half-joking, half-serious. His eyes on her for a moment before they look away. Helena Bertinelli shrugs her left shoulder slightly, then swallows a bite of the quiche before replying. "Not so bad anymore. Maybe I'll just settle for kicking your ass a bit. But for sure a promise that you won't try to pull a stunt like that again." "Only in an actual life or death situation," he still felt like a jerk, but at least Helen didn't want to hurt him as bad. "Are we still okay? After the ass-kicking at least?" Helena Bertinelli gives Dodds a hard stare for about three seconds, then smiles and nods. "Yeah. Now quit asking me that like a fourteen year old worried about getting grounded for borrowing the family car." "Well. I kind feel like that, also I angered someone that's...well, been a lot of things to me." A hand scratches his neck as feeling like a teenager that snuck out and got caught by the parents still lingers. Helena Bertinelli tilts her head a bit as her eyebrows draw together. "Do you... normally get attached to people really quickly?" She's trying to not make it sound judgemental, but she can't help but think 'WHOA, back up the bus!' "No. Like I said it's rare when I get bested. That made you an exception," thinking back on it maybe he did get a little too attached a little too quickly. Helena Bertinelli maintains the 'slightly confused' expression. "What? When did I 'best' you?" She doesn't remember kicking his ass at any point... Waving a hand at the first part. To Dodds sometimes besting someone didn't require a fight. "You found me when I was trying to be stealthy. While I cannot best you and your company. I am proficient at staying in the shadows and at Chemistry. You effectively bested me in one of my fields..." Helena Bertinelli pffts and waves one hand dismissively. "That's not stealth, that's powers of observation. I'd just left the police station and I noticed some odd flashes of light in the windows of a building across the way." Smirking to himself, Dodds sits back. "That's all it took?" his mind wonders. There is no way she's not honest. Helena is too confident to be a liar in this case. And she would only lie if a mission is on the line, at least that's what he suspects. "Well your powers of observation astounded me." "Well, be glad it was me that noticed and not the Bat. He wouldn't have been nearly as nice about it." Helena sits back as well, moving to cross her arms simply to have something to do, but ending up just holding her right arm against her chest. "What's it like running into him mask and all going?" his words fill are filled with curiousity. Batman is a menace to many and gave that hardass to his partners vibe. Helena Bertinelli hmphs faintly. "Very intimidating. The guy is like, zero humor and even less patience." Well, except for that time she ran into him on her way to check in on snarky-Robin, but she chalks that up more to the young man's injuries than to anything she herself did or said. "I still need your help with material for my own suit. Gotham's viscious and I don't want to get hurt by her like I did last time. I'll give the guy credit, he knows the city." Helena Bertinelli nods. "I still haven't been able to catch Oracle, but I haven't forgotten. And yeah. It's kinda creepy how well he knows this town." She idly plucks at the right sleeve of the sweater she's wearing. "And I keep running into new Bat-people. Is he like a den father or something?" "I'm not part of the Bat people just part of Gotham. I'll never be a Bat that's not my place," he shrugs then smirks, "Maybe he's not such a hard ass if he plays Den father? I mean how many Robins are there?" Reports speculate with different birds locked in the bellfry. Helena Bertinelli says, "I have no idea. I know I've met two completely different people who went by that moniker, so I don't even try to guess anymore." She sits forward again, trying to keep from getting drowsy. Sitting still for too long is never a good thing." "Should I take you home?" he asks noticing the tired eyes. "Hm? Oh, um, Yeah, probably a good idea." Helena sits up straighter again, trying to mentally shake off the tiredness that's creeping up on her. And the thought of having to put her costume on again with this shoulder. Ugh. Getting up, Dodds vanishes to retrieve her costume. "Keep the civy gear, we'll be running into each other soon. We can go from there," he says putting her clothes in a paperbag that is hidden in a stack of them within the a pantry. Putting the uniform carefully away it is hidden by the bag, "Shall we?" Helena Bertinelli blinks, then moves to stand. "Oh. Right. Okay." She moves to follow Dodds, starting to idly wonder what's going to happen nest. Category:Logs Category:RPLogs